Defeat an Empire
by KikoWest
Summary: Shitennou drabbles spanning the Silver Millennium to Crystal Tokyo. Prompted by SMMonthly.
1. Image

**Author's Notes:** Written for Sailor Moon Monthly on Livejournal (smmonthly). This month's theme is "Shitennou." Each set of drabbles will be uploaded exactly like my Ami/Zoi set: Three per day (if available). Enjoy!

**Theme**: #1 Image  
**Genre**: Drama  
**Version**: Manga – Silver Millennium  
**Rating**: PG-13

…  
**Spirits Fly Upwards  
**…

Thunder crackled in the distance and one, fat rain drop landed with a dull splat against Zoicite's forehead. It mixed with sweat and long, ghastly streaks of blood, before dribbling down Zoicite's nose and wetting the fading pink of his chapped lips. He could taste the rusty twang as it seeped into his mouth, and his tongue worked it around like it had the French wine from the night before. There was nothing that could compare to the taste of battle, as far as he knew.

His eyes weren't on the carnage, though, that littered around his feet like dozens of tiny, weeping presents. Instead, they were skyward, where a curious hawk circled carefully over the bloody field. Its feathers ruffled in the strong wind, and one, shrill cry seemed to warn of the coming storm. It was getting impatient, and didn't want to be caught in the rain just to see if something could be salvaged for its supper.

"My Lord?" For the first time in the past half hour, Zoicite brought his eyes back to the ground. The addressing captain tried not to fidget too obviously under his gaze. "We've cleared the north side, and have taken some of the rebels as prisoners. We are awaiting your orders on what to do with them." The last sentence suggested the troops would prefer it sooner rather than later. That was fine. Zoicite had planned the attack down to the last detail.

Casting his eyes skyward again, Zoicite sucked the last, bitter drop of blood of his lips, and felt the uncomfortable chill of finality and consequences seep into his bones. The hawk above shrilled again, and wheeled violently to the left as the storm clouds moved closer. The part of Zoicite that wanted to break down and run home focused on the bird, existing just outside of his own grim reality.

"My Lord, we--" the captain began.

"Kill the survivors," instructed Zoicite. The other man paused, uncertain. "And leave the dead." Zoicite appeared thoughtful, keeping a steady watch on the hawk. "The birds will pick everything clean."

The hawk above screamed its assurance.


	2. Running Away

**Theme:** #2 Running Away  
**Genre:** General/Humor  
**Version:** Manga – Crystal Tokyo  
**Rating:** PG

…  
**Dangerous to Daydream**  
…

Kunzite never ran from anything. Well, at least physically. There was a moment Minako knew well, when his eyes would glass over like a foggy window and his stern mouth would stop clenching disagreeably for a second. His mind was a million miles away, while his body stayed firmly placed, a titanic figure of strength and resolve.

"Kunzite, are you listening to me?" asked Minako, fidgeting on the edge of his desk. She twisted a length of long, golden hair in her hands excitedly while Makoto stood back, watching the couple in awe.

"Yes, of course," he murmured. Kunzite was on autopilot, his piercing silver eyes gazed, unseeing, out the den window and into the crystal gardens beyond.

"What'd I just say?" asked Minako.

"The midsummer celebration," regurgitated Kunzite. "Yellow is fine."

"For my dress?"

"Yes."

"We weren't talking about dresses," said Minako, a sly look on her cherub face.

"For the decorations," replied Kunzite. He barely missed a beat, even when he wasn't paying attention.

"I'm glad we agree."

"Of course, sweetheart." Kunzite ran his fingers momentarily over his mouth, and his brown furrowed. Minako figured it was about time to wrap it up.

"But about my dress..."

Kunzite seemed to visibly sink even farther into himself. "That's fine," he mumbled.

"Anything I want?" asked Minako, nonchalant.

"Of course," said Kunzite.

"Thank you, darling!" Minako breathed, leaning across Kunzite's desk to give him a wet kiss smack on the forehead. He didn't even flinch, but instead made a vague, affectionate peck in her direction.

It wasn't until they had put some distance between them and Kunzite's office that Makoto spoke up, her voice filled with a type of reverence.

"I will bake you your favorite cake for a year if you tell me how you did that!" she gushed.

Minako seemed pleased with herself. "It's nothing really," she replied, puffing up like a proud peacock. "There's something about shopping and planning social occasions that makes Kunzite's brain short circuit. I can't really take credit, you know?"

"How long did it take you to figure that out?" asked Makoto. A large grin had spread across her face.

Casually checking her fingernails, Minako replied: "About a week."

"You're evil," informed Makoto.

"Thank you," said Minako, her blue eyes shined with exaggerated innocence.


	3. Sword

**Theme**: #3 Sword  
**Genre**: General/Drama  
**Version**: Manga – Silver Millennium  
**Rating**: PG-13

…  
**Sticks and Stones**  
…

The first star was beginning to crown in the sky, and Jadeite watched it for a moment while the sharp pain of the last sparring match made its way through his blood stream. His back throbbed, and Jadeite was sure a large, unsightly bruise was forming where Zoicite had gotten him in the side of the face with the hilt of his sword. It had been a cheap shot, too, in Jadeite's opinion, and he worried his bottom lip trying to keep his anger in check. Zoicite stood in his peripheral vision, staring with those mocking, green eyes of his.

"Get up, Jadeite," commanded Kunzite. The ground shook a little when he walked around the sparring pit, and it gave Jadeite the momentum to sit up and meet Kunzite's curious gaze. "You could have kept going, you know," he informed. "You should have kept going. You let him win."

"He caught me off guard," Jadeite grumbled, sifting some soil through his fingers. "Zoicite fights dirty."

Zoicite struck the other blond with a sharp glare. Kunzite just laughed.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" growled Zoicite. "Sorry I wasn't more sensitive, Princess."

Jadeite would have launched himself at Zoicite's shins if Kunzite hadn't stepped between them, the only calm energy in the small circle.

"What did you expect from Zoicite?" Kunzite asked Jadeite. "He was fighting within the guidelines I set down."

"He's allowed to heckle?" retorted Jadeite angrily. "It was a cheap shot!"

"All's fair in love and war," said Zoicite, his head hovering around Kunzite's arm. A smarmy smirk crept across his face.

"I hate to admit this..." deadpanned Kunzite. "But Zoicite makes a fine point."

Jadeite gaped. "You're taking his side?" he tried to hiss, but it came out kind of whiney.

"Your sword isn't your only weapon," said Kunzite. "Zoicite obviously lags behind you when it comes to sword play." Zoicite took a step away from Kunzite, obviously insulted. "A proper soldier chooses a weapon that will best aid them in a certain situation, and since Zoicite was lacking... he picked a different kind of sword. And his words stabbed you, didn't they?"

Jadeite tried to keep his head from hanging too low. He felt humiliated and stupid. Zoicite shouldn't have been able to shake him just by whispering a single sentence into his ear. It showed weakness, and a gap in his warfare. Maybe Jadeite played it by the book too much, and the raging, riskier fighters could always get the better of him.

"Just because it worked doesn't mean he wasn't fighting dirty," said Jadeite stubbornly. "That kind of fighting shouldn't be allowed." He met Zoicite's eyes for a second. "It's backstabbing. It's how a traitor fights."

"Jadeite--" Kunzite began firmly, but Zoicite cut him off.

"It's only backstabbing if you don't put your sword in the hilt after the battle has ended," the other man spat. Jadeite barely had time to react as Zoicite threw his sheathed weapon furiously into his lap and stalked away, back towards the palace. The setting sun seemed to add to the anger that radiated off his body, turning his hair into leaping fire as he walked into the horizon.

With a cool stare, Kunzite turned to follow the other, raging Shitennou. Jadeite sat by himself like a scolded child, and tried to understand exactly what he'd just done.


	4. Flirting

**Author Notes**: In order to catch up with the prompts, I realize I have to submit more than three times this time around.

**Theme**: #4 Flirting  
**Genre**: General/Humor  
**Version**: Manga – Crystal Tokyo  
**Rating**: PG-13

…  
**Tough Love**  
…

"Could you be anymore asinine?" screamed Rei, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists at her sides. If looks could kill, Jadeite would have gone up in a puff of smoke twenty minutes ago. "Or anymore of an ass?"

Jadeite just responded by turning around and giving her a great view of his rear end. He shook it proudly. "You know you like my ass!" he responded in an impish manner.

Rei's foot connected with his backside in the blink of an eye, and Jadeite went careening face first into the nearest bush. He came up, arms flailing as he sputtered and moaned. Rei didn't bother to stick around, but stormed off in an enraged huff, her hair fanning out behind her like an angry, black fire.

"Whoa! What just happened there?" asked Nephrite, who had been keeping his distance for the majority of the argument. With strong hands, he helped fish Jadeite out of the shrubbery. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah," replied Jadeite. "I'm fine."

"What were you arguing about?" Nephrite questioned.

"Arguing?" Jadeite seemed genuinely confused. "We weren't arguing."

Nephrite took a moment to stare down at the blond. Did Jadeite hit is head too hard when he took that nose dive? "Then what do you call _that_?" Nephrite responded. "She just kicked your ass! Literally!"

Jadeite grinned. "What? That didn't look like flirting to you?" he asked.


	5. Ties

Theme: #5 Ties  
Genre: General/Humor  
Version: Manga – Crystal Tokyo  
Rating: PG

…  
**Morning Warfare**  
…

Over the holidays, the palace cooks were often given the morning off. It was a nice gesture on Ami's part, and Zoicite could appreciate having a well rested and content staff. It was just a little inconvenient sometimes, and (to Zoicite's displeasure) this seemed to be one of those mornings.

"I just want toast!" he whined, yanking desperately on the little twist tie separating him from a sliced loaf of sweet, wheat bread. As directed, he had tried twisting the tie around both ways (twice). It absolutely refused to release its grip.

He was just about to use a nearby butcher knife to hack a hole into the end of the casing, so it could be easily ripped apart, when Ami set down her tea cup and held out a hand. Zoicite passed her the bread like a sulky child, and watched her untwist the twisty tie with her nimble fingers without even looking up from her news paper.

"Just remember who opens the pickle jars," grumbled Zoicite, accepting the packaged bread from her.

"I know," replied Ami, eyes still glued on an exceptionally interesting article about the seafood industry. She tapped the side of her cheek distractedly. "Kiss?"

Zoicite complied with a quick peck before skulking away to fight with the toaster.


	6. Resentment

**Theme**: #6 Resentment  
**Genre**: General  
**Version**: Manga – Silver Millennium  
**Rating**: PG-13

…  
**Male Bonding**  
...

"You did that on purpose!" sputtered Jadeite, wiping mud from his eyes. "Nephrite! I'm going to kill you!"

"It was an accident," replied Nephrite coolly. "You shouldn't have been walking so close to the edge. I didn't mean to shove you in."

Jadeite attacked him with a wildly enraged glare. "Help me out!" he demanded, holding up one, slime covered hand. Nephrite took it without hesitating, and hauled Jadeite out of the mucky lake and back onto the dock. "I didn't know you'd be so offended!" said Jadeite, trying to shake water from his ears.

"Oh, so you didn't mean it, then?" asked Nephrite. His eyes were half closed, which seemed conflictingly lazy and calculating at the same time.

"No, I meant it!" said Jadeite. "You can't fence worth a damn, but--"

Without a word, Nephrite sent Jadeite tumbling backwards into the lake again. Jadeite landed with a _smack!_ on his back, sending a wave of murky water up onto the dock. When he surfaced this time, a long strip of lake algae circled his head like a slimy, green halo.

"You bastard!" choked Jadeite. "You can't say that was an accident this time!"

"Yeah," said Nephrite. "That's because it wasn't."

He left Jadeite in the lake, scraping muck from behind his ears and squeezing dirty water from his tunic.


	7. Lyrical

**Note:** I've been going back and checking out some unfinished drabbles I had sitting around. Since I had three, I figured I'd finish and upload them. I really do enjoy writing the shitennou. Hopefully, if I wave a carrot in front of a plot bunny long enough, I'll have more drabbles to add. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. Sorry for such a long hiatus!

**Theme:** #8 "The Only One" by Evanescence  
**Genre:** Drama  
**Version:** Animanga - Silver Millennium  
**Rating:** PG

**---  
"They Bowed to Graven Images"  
---**

The Moon Queen was white and pristine, the epitome of what a ruler should be. The face that shone brightly from large, Technicolor screen was soft with love and rich with wisdom, her cheeks blossoming with the faint blush of eternal youth. Kunzite knew that under her thick, weeping lashes, Queen Selenity's eyes were sharp and knowing silver, twin daggers to the soul, much like his own.

This was a queen a person could be proud to fight for, to die for. Beauty and knowledge were hard companions to find in a ruler, and Selenity held them in her fingers, enjoying an overflowing fountain of virtues. Kunzite's experience told him that her daughter would grow to be very much like her mother, with an ethereal grace and an omniscient presence. The moon would continue to revolve, peaceful and untouchable, in the gentle hands of the planetary goddesses that walked through its crystallized palace.

In the back of his mind, Kunzite remembered what it was like to feel calm and invincible, engulfed in a shower of golden light and the sound of carefree laughter. If he concentrated, he could still feel soft, supple skin under his calloused fingers, and see the slender slope of curves, lounging like a satiated cat.

"Kunzite." Beryl's voice impacted into his thoughts like a sledgehammer, but she'd never know. Cold, apathetic eyes drank in her self-satisfied smirk with only a smidgen of interest. "Kunzite," she purred. "I thought I'd find you here. Your loyalty and enthusiasm is very impressive."

He failed to answer, and instead turned his face back towards Selenity. The soft, silver light her picture spread upon the cold, stone floor felt warm and comforting. Beryl's long, talon-like fingers closed tightly into his uniform, pinching the muscle underneath.

As Kunzite bowed to her, his knees hitting the ground harder than he might have originally intended, it occurred to him how cold and hollow Beryl seemed, standing next to the overwhelming portrait of Selenity. She looked small and already defeated. He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze for a brief second.

And then the darkness came.


	8. Visit

**Theme:** #7 Visit  
**Genre:** General/Drama  
**Version:** AU  
**Rating:** PG

**---  
"Shh, Listen"  
---**

The weather was typical of a Chilean summer, with temperatures up in the sunny mid-eighties. As Nahuel sat facing his uncle, he could feel tiny beads of sweat collect in the line of his spine and around his temples. They fell like rain, and Nahuel tried to remember to close his eyes.

When his uncle had asked him to come outside and sit with him, Nahuel's mother had scoffed.

"Uncle, he's a boy," she had said, waving a wooden stirring spoon around like a hapless sword. "No funny business, or we'll never get it out of his head!"

Uncle just smiled. Nahuel tried to figure out why he never noticed that everyone just called his uncle: "Uncle." Maybe because he looked like everyone's little brother, with a round, smooth, and friendly face. His dark eyes twinkled with mischief. Or maybe it was some kind of untold knowledge. It was hard to tell.

"We're just going to sit quietly," Uncle had soothed. His hand on the back of Nahuel's shirt had felt heavy and comforting, like a wool blanket in the winter.

Expecting something spectacular, Nahuel couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when all they did really was just sit silently. If he concentrated, he could hear every noise welling up into a chaotic chorus that represented his busy fishing village, and the ocean boomed deeply in the distance. Uncle was what a lot of the towns people called a "modern day shaman." Nahuel felt he knew better than to expect their ancestors to pop out of the ground and start rattling off advice or swirl over their heads like great, ghostly birds. But he'd always been a bit of a dreamer, and those things seemed a lot better than the real thing, which just involved a lot of quiet and minimal fidgeting.

Cracking an eye, Uncle flitted into existence. His eyes were only half closed, but Nahuel knew that they were totally unseeing. His uncle was elsewhere inside himself. When he was younger, Nahuel would often ask: "Uncle, where did you go this time?" As if meditation was a journey. Uncle would just smile that slow, steady smile of his and say: "I visited the stars, again. You should come with me sometime. I think they'd like you."

Nahuel closed his eyes again and tried to clear his mind. There was a lot going on up there, and it was hard to get it all slotted into tiny, tidy places of silence, but the sounds of the town slowly fizzled out into static, and the ocean played the base. Behind his eyelids, tiny pinpricks of light swung in time with the fading sounds.

The lights rushed like waves, rising and falling around him. There was something chaotic, but uniform, in each and every moment. They had purpose and a destiny. Nahuel tried not to flinch as one floated curiously in front of his face, it's light pulsing softly. They weren't real, and they couldn't hurt him.

Right?

"_Nahue_l." His name echoed slightly, and the tiny balls shook with the vibrations. "_Nahuel_." With increasing intensity, the lights pulsed and whirled. They seemed frantic in their movements, creating a spider web of glow and persistence. "_Nahuel_." As they drew back, like one, large and blinding fist, Nahuel struggled with himself. They were rearing, threatening to crash on him, crush him. "Nahuel, you can open your eyes."

And he did. Tiny spots danced in his vision, as if mocking his experience. That's when Nahuel noticed he was practically in his uncle's lap, one arm locked around his neck for dear life. As the older man disentangled himself from his nephew's grip, he rewarded the embarrassed and flustered Nahuel with a soft hand on his head.

"Isn't it nice to be welcomed by old friends?" said Uncle. Nahuel squinted at him, bemused, as Uncle stood and brushed himself off. Uncle seemed jaunty and rejuvenated, while Nahuel just felt confused and exhausted.

"What?" Nahuel breathed.

Uncle just looked at his watch, and then up at the beaming sun. "Lunch must be ready," he said. Nahuel gaped at him from his spot on the ground as the older man gave him a flippant wink and started back towards the house. "Smells great, even from here! Don't stay outside forever, Nahuel. You'll get heat stroke," called Uncle.

"I think I already did," muttered Nahuel, climbing shakily to his feet and wobbling his way towards the side door.

Maybe his mother was right, considered Nahuel. The sun really could fry your mind.

**---**

_Nahuel means "Jaguar" in Mapuche. I've just always kind of seen Nephrite as very ethnic. Technically, I think he's supposed to be the king of North America, but I always plunk him into the "Americas" in general. He strikes me as someone who would like to samba or eat really spicy foods. I think he'd love South America, so I like to put him there at lot._


	9. Pirates

**Theme**: #12 - Pirates  
**Genre**: Drama  
**Version**: Animanga – Silver Millennium  
**Rating**: PG-13

**---  
Haul Together, Hoist The Colors High  
---**

The Terran people had thought their own armies were Moon Raiders until the banners were lifted high. Jadeite made sure to lift his highest, making his treason easy to spot. He had nothing to be ashamed of. If they had let him roll in the flowing blood, like a dog, he might have. Something about this war made him feel berserk, out of control.

He didn't feel like himself.

But all he had to do was close his eyes, and he could hear Beryl's voice in his ear, soft and sultry. When he closed his eyes, he could see Kunzite, Zoicite, and Nephrite making their pledge. He wasn't alone. At the exact same moment he had unleashed his fury in the east, his comrades were spread across the globe, doing the same thing. Raping, pillaging, plundering everything they had known and loved until nothing was left except for an empty shell that could be reshaped as the new world order saw fit.

They were modern pirates, molding and scorching the land with their self-righteous anger.

So, Jadeite crushed the whimper that was building far back in his brain. He crushed it and turned his face towards the Middle Kingdom.

He would crush that next.


End file.
